Dim Sum, Closer Style: Don't Forget the Hot Mustard
by Labyrinth01
Summary: Dim Sums are short vignettes, often in responses to a challenge, started on The Closer Forum. Each chapter is a complete story and can contain any Closer or Major Crimes character(s). It's a bit of a sampler plate. So grab your chopsticks,choose something tasty, and take a bite!


**Author's Notes: Welcome to my Dim Sums! I have a bunch of these sitting on my 'puter and I thought that I might as well toss them on here. Although no one seems to read my non-M material. Maybe I need to come up up a series of Adult Dim Sums (Naughty Nibbles? tee hee). The possibilities are endless...**

**Focus, Laby. This **Dim Sum Challenge this was written for was is called "Through Someone Else's Eyes." The goal is to write about a main character from the perspective of a minor, or more minor, character. That's not exactly what I did here at all, but creative license and all that.  
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**Two Options Dim Sum**

Brenda watched Fritz as he got ready for bed. She leaned against the bathroom doorframe and listened as he talked at a faster speed than usual, his voice occasionally muffled by the necessary maneuvers of flossing and brushing. He was still wound up from his intense night of rescuing two small children kidnapped and held hostage by their psychopathic father, during which Fritz shot the perp in the head. His use of terminal force was something she knew he hadn't even begun to process; that would come later. Tonight was about grounding, getting the stress-soaked lines unblurred so his world can come back into focus and return to its normal pace. _Breathe, Fritzy, Breathe_, Brenda thought.

In the middle of one of his nervous, fragmented renditions of the day's events, interrupted by frequent hugs and kisses, Fritz mentioned almost off-handedly that Taylor had offered him the position of Deputy Chief of the Special Operations Bureau. Brenda tried to get Fritz to stay on topic and explain how this came about: Chief (oh, how it galled her that Taylor was now a Chief) Taylor never particularly expressed any admiration for Fritz, and in fact had gotten on his case for punching an Indian diplomat a couple of weeks before. Fritz couldn't offer any insight as to why Taylor was so solicitous, but then stopped pacing long enough to say, "one reason, I think, I that McGuinness seems to like me, and I guess that's a rare thing." He shrugged his shoulders and was off for more laps around the living room and on to another topic, asking Brenda about how much tactical training Major Crimes was required to undergo, and could she make him a sandwich?

In the intervening hours he hadn't brought the topic of working for SOB up again, and neither had she, but it was all Brenda could think about. As she watched Fritz fold and refold a hand towel, she considered how great it would be for Fritz to have an opportunity to advance to such a high-level job, since his stint in rehab had hindered his prospects at the FBI. The money was excellent; with his salary matching hers, they would be quite comfortable. And best of all, to have such a strong LAPD influence in a powerful position could help her immensely in her place at the DA's office. Everyone always liked Fritz. But that was the problem, wasn't it?

Brenda shifted her position and followed Fritz with her eyes as he went to his dresser and rummaged around, half naked, for pajamas. She swept the clean, hard planes of his chest and arms, marveling at his perfect body. Her husband was a very sexy man, and other women noticed. Women like Ann McGuinness, who was very attractive herself, couldn't help but observe how attractive and charming Fritz is. McGuinness is a workaholic, Brenda had heard, most likely her way of dealing with the terrible loss in her life. Unofficially running SOB four years isn't exactly conducive to dating, so Brenda guessed she was single. And if Fritz took the Deputy Chief position…Working closely with a sweet man like Fritz Howard, long hours in intense situations…no other outlets for meeting people…these things are the perfect ingredients for illicit love affairs to blossom. She should know. She had the best of intentions when she started at the DC police, and ended up with a terrible outcome. Brenda couldn't let that happen, not to Fritz, to her, to _them_. Fritz was her world, and she would do anything to protect her marriage.

Fritz was in bed, patting her empty side enthusiastically and suggesting ways to work off his tension. She smiled warmly at him and let her robe slide off her shoulders. As he pulled her down and kissed her so hard she could practically taste his adrenaline, Brenda made a mental note to return a phone call first thing in the morning. Homeland Security had left a message yesterday about a job opening. She wasn't interested yesterday. Today she is. Tomorrow that job could save everything.

THE END


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